by Karen Cole
‘Ellie!’ Abby calls out. She peers into the dark, dank interior. Nothing. Just a few crushed cans of Coke, cigarette butts and an empty crisp packet.
‘She’s not here,’ she says. Disappointment weighs heavily on her. She was so sure. She sits on the wooden jetty and Danny sits next to her. It’s getting dark. On the lake a heron dips its beak in the water, then spreads it wide wings and flaps away.
‘You thought Ellie would be here?’ Danny says. ‘Why?’
‘I thought maybe she’d come to be alone. I thought she’d found out . . .’
‘Found out what?’
Then it all rushes out, bubbling to the surface like sewage from a blocked drain – finding the photographs, how she thinks Rob has raped her, may in fact be the father of the baby she’s carrying.
Danny picks up a stone and throws it into the water. It lands, creating a spreading ripple of circles on the dark water. He looks shocked and confused.
‘I sound insane, I know.’
‘Not insane, no. So, it was Rob? I mean . . .’ He tails off, shaking his head.
‘It must have been. Who else could have uploaded them? The only other person with access is Ellie and that makes no sense.’
Danny nods slowly. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know yet. All I know is I can’t go back there tonight. I can’t face seeing him,’ says Abby. ‘Can I stay at your house?’
‘Of course.’
*
When they get back to Danny’s house he makes some beans on toast and tries to persuade her to eat. She’s pushing the food around her plate when her phone rings. Rob calling flashes up on the screen.
‘It’s him.’ She automatically hits END CALL and drops the phone as if a cockroach has flown into her hand.
‘You should call him back,’ says Danny. ‘Or he’ll wonder what’s going on.’
She doesn’t want to speak to Rob ever again. But Danny’s right. If she doesn’t, it will alert him to the fact that she knows what he’s done.
‘Would you rather I spoke to him?’ asks Danny.
But she shakes her head. She can do this. She has to do this.
Rob answers the phone on the second ring.
‘Abby, thank God. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for ages. Where the hell are you?’
The sound of his voice, so familiar and yet so unfamiliar makes her feel sick. She struggles to sound normal.
‘Um, I’m at a friend’s house,’ she says. ‘I just needed to get away for a bit.’
‘Oh . . . okay. Well, as long as you’re alright.’
‘I’m okay.’
‘Well, I just wanted to tell you that the police are organizing a search party tomorrow morning in Ashridge Wood.’
‘Ashridge Wood,’ she repeats stupidly.
‘Yes. Apparently, someone at her work said she mentioned going for a walk there. Anyway, I thought you’d want to know. Maybe you could put it up on Facebook? Get as many of your friends involved as possible. The more people the better.’
‘Okay, I’ll do that.’ She puts down the phone trembling.
‘I hate him,’ she says to Danny. ‘I hate him so much.’
Danny puts his arm around her. ‘Rob, though? I just can’t believe that Rob could . . . Are you sure this isn’t all some kind of misunderstanding?’
She shrugs him off impatiently. ‘No, bring me your laptop. I want to show you what I found.’
She wishes she could erase the pictures from existence and it’s humiliating for Danny to see them, but she knows that if Danny is to believe Rob could do this, she’s going to have to show him.
She logs in to Ellie’s email.
‘There,’ she says, opening the folder of photos.
Danny scrolls through, an increasingly grave expression on his face. ‘You have no memory of these being taken?’ he asks.
‘No. He must have drugged me.’ Abby moves away, so she can’t see the pictures. She has no desire to see them again.
‘Look at this,’ says Danny suddenly. ‘This isn’t you, is it?’
Reluctantly, she moves behind him and looks over his shoulder. The picture on the screen is posed in a similar way to the first picture of her. One leg bent, the other straight, her head turned away from the camera, hair fanning over her face. But it isn’t Abby. It’s a stranger: a blonde woman in her thirties, plump-thighed, heavy-breasted. Danny clicks through more photos of her, some which show her face.
‘Do you know who she is?’ he asks.
Abby shakes her head. Danny carries on and they come to yet another woman, or girl. She looks heart-breakingly young, her caramel-coloured skin stark against the white sheet. In one photo her mouth is hanging open and there is the glint of braces on her teeth.
‘Tanseela,’ Abby breathes. Her instincts were right all along, she thinks. There was a connection. But how could he? That sweet, young girl, so innocent, so trusting. She turns away in disgust.
‘We have to take these to the police,’ Danny says grimly, switching off the laptop and snapping it shut.
‘Yes, I know . . . but not yet.’ Abby paces the room, torn between desire for justice and her fear for Ellie. But she must prioritize Ellie right now. ‘I don’t want to distract them from finding Ellie.’
‘Are you sure?’
Abby nods. She feels suddenly overwhelmingly tired. ‘I think I’m going to head to bed,’ she says.
‘Sure,’ says Danny. ‘You can sleep in my room.’
Abby lets him bundle her upstairs. She sits on the bed and he takes off her shoes and she collapses under the covers.
‘See you in the morning,’ he says, stroking her hair.
‘Yes, thanks, Danny,’ she murmurs, closing her eyes. The best thing she can do now is sleep so that her head is clear for the morning. Her last thought as she drifts off to sleep is that first thing tomorrow she’ll go to Ellie’s work and talk to Dr Rowe, Dr Samuel, the receptionist and the nurses for herself to check exactly what Ellie said about going to Ashridge Wood. Then, after that, she’ll join the search party. The thought of seeing Rob again fills her with dread but she knows she has to face him for Ellie’s sake.
In the middle of the night she wakes up gripped by terror, her heart pummelling against her chest. An idea has forced its way into her head, fully formed. It’s an awful, terrifying idea but she can’t shake it off as she lies there shivering in the dark.
What if Ellie had confronted Rob about the photos? Wouldn’t that be a more likely thing for Ellie to do? Ellie’s never been one to shy away from a confrontation. Maybe she threatened to go to the police and Rob couldn’t let her.
What if Rob had killed Ellie?
Thirty-Seven
In the morning light the fears of last night seem absurd. Rob may be many things, but he would never hurt Ellie, she’s sure of that. Abby gets out of bed feeling determined. Today is the day they will find Ellie. She needs to believe that. She gets out of bed, dresses and heads out of the house before Danny and Mark are awake.
There’s a fragment of rainbow in the sky behind the surgery, vanishing in a large dark grey cloud. Maybe it’s a good sign. Abby isn’t one who generally believes in signs and omens, but just now she’s clinging to whatever she can. She reaches the surgery door just as the receptionist, Nicky, pulls up and gets out of her car. ‘Hello, Abigail. Any news of Ellie?’ she asks, unlocking the front door.
‘No. The search party is this morning.’ Abby follows Nicky into Reception. ‘That’s why I’m here, actually. You told the police she said she was going for a walk in Ashridge Park after work? Did she say where exactly?’
Nicky shakes her head. She hangs up her coat and turns on her computer. ‘No, it was Dr Rowe she spoke to. I left early on Tuesday. My son had a dentist’s appointment.’
‘Did you talk to her at
all? Did she say or do anything out of the ordinary?’
The phone rings and Nicky answers it. ‘Sorry,’ she mouths to Abby. ‘The locum,’ she says, hanging up. ‘He got lost on his way here.’ She twists the silver chain around her neck. ‘No, I can’t think of anything out of the ordinary. She seemed normal. A little bit stressed maybe. She got locked out of her computer and she was having problems accessing her patient files.’
Abby can all too easily imagine that.
‘Do you want to wait and talk to Simon?’ Nicky looks at her watch. ‘He should be here any minute.’
Abby goes through to the waiting room. There is one other person in there, an elderly lady with wrinkled tights. Abby smiles at her vaguely and looks at her watch. She doesn’t have much time before she needs to be in Ashridge Wood. But she doesn’t have to wait long. About ten minutes later, Dr Rowe bustles in.
‘Abigail. I’m so sorry. Is there any news about Ellie?’ he asks, clasping her hands.
Abby shakes her head.
‘Nicky said you wanted to talk to me?’
‘Yes. You told the police you thought she’d gone to the park. What exactly did she say?’
‘Let’s go to my office where we can talk in private.’ He steers her into his surgery. ‘Take a seat.’
He turns on his computer. Then he sits opposite Abby, crossing his legs. Abby sits down, her eyes skimming over his desk and resting on the photograph of Dr Rowe with his family, smiling at the camera. She focuses on the daughter. There’s something familiar about her – the fair hair, the slight stoop of the shoulders. She reminds her of Ellie, Abby realizes, and feels a pang of longing for her sister. She turns away, trying not to cry and looks into Dr Rowe’s sympathetic blue eyes.
‘Did Ellie say that she was definitely going to the park? Are you sure it was Ashridge?’
He frowns. ‘I can’t remember her exact words. But I had the impression that she was going there. To clear her head, I think she said.’
‘Did she say which part? She didn’t mention a lake?’
‘I’m afraid not. Sorry.’ His eyes skim down to her belly. ‘You look ready to pop. How are you?’
Abby runs a hand over her belly. ‘I’m not due for another two weeks.’ She leans forward. ‘What time did she leave?’
Dr Rowe frowns. ‘Now, let me see, she was still here when I left. She’s often the last to leave.’ He looks at his watch. ‘I’m sorry, Abigail, but I have a patient in a minute.’
‘There’s just one more thing I wanted to ask. Please.’
‘Of course.’
‘Was Ellie on any kind of medication? I know you’re not meant to break doctor–patient confidentiality, but it could be important.’
He sighs. ‘The police asked me about that too. The truth is, she came to see me about feeling down a few months ago, around mid- May. . .’ About the time Abby first told her about her pregnancy. Ellie had seemed to take it in her stride. Had she been pretending all the time? Abby shifts in her seat and there’s a sharp pain, like an iron fist clenching. She clutches her stomach and groans.
‘Are you okay?’ Dr Rowe is watching her, his eyes full of concern.
Abby nods and grits her teeth. ‘I think it’s just Braxton Hicks,’ she says. But this is more intense than any contractions she’s experienced previously.
‘What did you prescribe?’ she asks, trying to focus on Ellie.
‘I suggested a course of cognitive therapy and antidepressants.’
‘What kind?’
He scrawls down the name on a piece of paper for Abby.
‘Who was the therapist?’
He clicks the computer. ‘An excellent therapist. Michelle Harper.’
‘Can you give me her number?’
‘Sure.’
He scribbles a number beneath the name of the drug, and hands it to Abby. Abby folds it and puts it in her handbag. It will probably amount to nothing but you never know what could be important.
‘Well, if that’s all . . .’
But just then there is another contraction, even more intense than the last. Abby’s legs tremble and she doubles over in pain.
Dr Rowe looks at his watch, timing her. ‘That’s a minute since the last one,’ he says. ‘It looks like you’re in labour. Let me have a look.’
‘I can’t be,’ she says, but as she speaks an enormous tidal wave of pain washes over her and she blanks out for a minute.
When she comes round, Dr Rowe is smiling down at her.
‘Well, thank you for your help,’ she says staggering to her feet, trying to ignore the pain. ‘I’ve got to go and join the search party.’
‘Not now, you can’t,’ he says. ‘We need to get you to a hospital.’
He makes a phone call. ‘Hey, Nicky. Can you cancel my appointments? We’ve got an emergency here.’
‘What about your patients?’ Abby says weakly. ‘You could just call an ambulance for me.’
‘No, no, it’s alright. They’ll take forever. I can take you.’
It’s odd, him insisting on taking her. But Abby is in too much pain to wonder why.
Thirty-Eight
Dr Rowe’s black SUV is parked at the back of the surgery. He puts his bag in the boot and reluctantly Abby climbs up in the passenger seat.
‘I feel better now,’ she says. ‘I think it was just Braxton Hicks. Maybe you could drop me at Ashridge Wood? The north gate?’
Dr Rowe chuckles gently. ‘I’m afraid not, Abby. You’re definitely in labour. Childbirth isn’t something you can postpone.’
A brief flurry of rain splatters against the windscreen and Dr Rowe puts on the windscreen wipers as they drive through the town centre. The pain is bad, but Abby can manage it, she thinks. When she gets to hospital she’ll ask for pain relief. Why not? Why feel pain when you don’t have to? There’s enough pain and suffering in the world. There’s a thought at the back of her mind, niggling away, but the pain takes over and she doesn’t have room for anything else.
‘Do you want to call somebody? Your father? Your brother-in-law? I’ve got his number – I can call him?’
Abby shakes her head vehemently. The last person she wants at the birth is Rob. The only person she really wants is Ellie. Pain mingles with anger and grief, and she wipes away a tear. Ellie will be so disappointed to miss this, she thinks.
‘Things aren’t exactly good between me and Rob at the moment,’ she says, making the understatement of the year. ‘Did Ellie mention anything about photographs?’
‘What?’ says Dr Rowe sharply.
‘The day before she went missing, she didn’t mention some photos that Rob took, did she? Or being angry with me or Rob?’
‘Oh, no.’
Of course Ellie wouldn’t have shared something like that with Dr Rowe. If she’d have told anyone, it would have been Carla.
They drive past allotments and the golf club heading onto the old Cheltenham road. It’s not the most direct route but Abby guesses that Dr Rowe is trying to avoid the traffic.
‘I always wanted more children,’ says Dr Rowe, ‘but my wife didn’t want any more after my daughter was born. She had two difficult pregnancies. Endometriosis. Have you thought of a name for her yet . . . ?’
‘Not yet,’ says Abby. She’ll leave that to Ellie. Ellie can have whatever she wants, if only she’ll come back.
‘Her,’ she says slowly. ‘How do you know it’s a girl?’
‘Oh?’ Dr Rowe swerves to avoid a cyclist. ‘It was in your medical files from the scan.’
Abby nods. ‘I’ll probably leave choosing the name to her adoptive parents.’
‘I thought you had changed your mind about that? You were going to let Ellie adopt, no?’
There’s a long silence. Abby is thinking hard. She stares straight ahead at the winding road as they drive through
a tunnel of trees. Something is scuttling away at the back of her head. She tries to grasp it, but it slips away in another wave of pain. Then she has it.
Ellie is the only person she’s told about her change of heart, and she only told her in a text, yesterday morning. Fourteen hours after Dr Rowe supposedly last saw her. The thought is slow to take root. Everything has to be looked at from a different angle. But then something else clicks into place inside her head: the photograph on Dr Rowe’s desk of his daughter. She remembers now where she’s seen her before. It was on the CCTV footage in the florist’s. She was the girl buying the orchid.
Another memory comes hard on its heels, screaming for attention . . .
Just before her biopsy. Dr Rowe perched on the desk smiling down at her. Helen coming in clutching her head.
‘I’m really not feeling well,’ she said.
‘It’s okay, you go on home. I’ll call the agency and get someone to cover you.’ Dr Rowe smiled kindly. As Helen slipped out he picked up the phone. He stood with the phone to his ear, waiting silently. ‘No answer I’m afraid,’ he said after a while. ‘But I should think that we’ll manage without a nurse, so long as you’re okay with that, Abigail?’
Abby nodded. She was too busy worrying about the knife she’d seen to think about the ethics or legality of him performing the surgery without a nurse present. Besides, she knew Dr Rowe. He was Ellie’s colleague. She trusted him.
Dr Rowe looked at her expression and laughed.
‘You don’t have to look so afraid! I can sedate you if you like. Or put you under completely? You won’t remember a thing.’
What if she’s been looking at this whole thing from the wrong perspective all this time? What if this baby wasn’t conceived on New Year’s Eve? What if she conceived two weeks earlier when she had the biopsy? Hadn’t the sonographer said the baby was unusually developed for its due date? And now here she was in labour exactly two weeks early.
Perhaps she’s going insane. Suspicion is eating away at her like a worm. First Rob, now Dr Rowe. It can’t be true. But there’s no getting around the adoption thing. There’s no way he can know about her decision unless he saw the phone message she sent to Ellie.
